


His Name

by limonali



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Danger, F/M, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Impression, Insanity, Lies, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-19 04:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10632024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limonali/pseuds/limonali
Summary: I have long felt that what transpired on the show regarding Dukat's character after he lost his daughter was most dissatisfying. This writing will serve as my attempt at rectifying this dreary situation. I tend to be wordy though I envision this story to close in ten chapters. I am not telling you more of my secrets :)





	1. Confessions

She came to him that evening, for the first time since his breakdown and incarceration. After Sisko retook Deep Space Nine, after she found Ziyal's dead, cold body on the floor of one of many hallways, her father's arms clenched protectively around her tiny frame... after she had to assist the medical team to pull him off her, she studiously avoided him. She never went near his cell; telling herself that everything between them was said and done, and for once she had the total control over kicking him out of her life. No trace left. She was going to take that opportunity and run.

However, this was an evening of the day that witnessed Ziyal's rushed, and yet beautiful funeral on Bajor. The young girl, barely a whisper of a woman, was laid to rest in a peaceful ceremony, as the warm sun rolled over the sky and started to sink, red and heavy, towards the horizon line. In the orange glow of Durana lamps, veiled by sweet flowers' scent, she was gently lulled to eternal sleep by Bajoran spiritual chants. Delicate petals were scattered on the pillow, on which her head rested, like on one of her paintings. 'She sleeps among the flowers of her mind' was the thought that nearly broke through Kira's defenses and made her cry, right there in the middle of the ceremony. She quickly deserted that particular mental path, and turned her mind instead to planning her escape.

When the ceremony finished, she made a hasty and quiet retreat. She ditched the official speeches part with people milling about the place and piloted the small runabout back to the station. She said to herself that she had simply wanted to be alone. No more words, condolences, praises. And yet, when upon docking she left the upper pylon, her steps brought her curiously far from the habitat ring, and close to an isolated part of the station, turned into make-shift security brig for the Dominion versus Federation confrontation of last weeks.

Kira's mind was filled with apprehension. She knew there was one place she had to go tonight - she knew that with conviction; and she dreaded that. She owed absolutely nothing to Dukat... except maybe a few comforting words about his child. With heavily sinking certainty, she understood that he had to be informed of where his beloved daughter was interred and she suspected she was the only person who could possibly get through his muddled mind. Ziyal was the link of light that once existed between the two of them, before he lost his senses, before she pushed him away. She did not want to see him tonight, any more than usual, but all these make-believe games that Dukat played on repeat wreaked havoc with her thoughts. He liked indulging in that dream: loving father, doting mother, bright daughter. He liked forcing this dream on Kira too, whenever he got an upper hand. Always invading her life, and involving her in his, to a far greater extent than she ever asked for - and for better or for worse, she had to admit to herself that some of it managed to get under her skin.

It was not such a long time ago, yet it felt like eons, when they spent an evening together, in a relatively amicable atmosphere, for once, talking about Ziyal's bright future, looking at ink flowers...

Cut in half, like her young life, so unfair - thought Kira. She stormed past few Station inhabitants, without realizing they were even there. She barely registered other beings on the Promenade. She fought the tears that threatened to overflow her usual defenses. It's been happening a lot lately, and it was a bad sign. Resistance fighters did not cry. She did not cry when her own father died; why the death of this young, mixed species girl impacted her so? She did not know. She only knew that the sheer force of 'unfair' in this case threatened to overflow her iron will every time she let her own thoughts stray in this direction, so she simply didn't. There was always time to grieve. As usual.

 

Later.  
***

 

Kira rounded the corner and passed two Starfleet security officers, stationed outside of the external door to the brig. Then she came into the first chamber, separated by a golden buzz of a force field from the room where he sat, huddled in a corner. She stopped abruptly. He did not lift his head from where it was it resting, on a limp arm on top of his skinny knees, pulled towards his chest. His right hand was balled up in a fist. His whole figure was blanketed with semi-darkness. Kira's mind searched for words that would not come. At last, she spoke, breaking the silence:

"Dukat… Dukat! Can you hear me?" – it came out in a curt, angered tone. The one she always used to talk to him, to remind him where they stood, on two opposite sides of the universe – "Dukat! I am here to talk to you about your daughter".

She got no reaction from him. His shoulders sagged, his right arm limp alongside his body, the fist balled. He did not even seem to be breathing. He was eerily still, his disheveled hair hiding his face. Not a movement, not a word. Not even a breath. 

Fed up, her quick temper flaring, she turned to walk away. But suddenly, his face and his words, from ages ago, floated to the front of her mind, and she stopped dead in her tracks. They worked together to capture the Bird of Prey. She offered to him she would look after Ziyal. He was saying goodbye, before he went flying into the darkness, a pirate on the rusty Klingon vessel. His face was lit with love for his daughter and honest gratitude to Kira, for her offer to protect Ziyal from any wrong that might come her way. His eyes shone with partial amusement, partial genuine tenderness. _'Major, it gives me the reason to live'_ … were his words, directed at her, speaking of possibilities Kira did not allow herself to consider. Ziyal's face, weaved from a dream, hung in the back, trusting and innocent…

Kira could barely stop herself from moaning in frustration.

She turned around abruptly. This was the one thing he did not deserve - to become the living dead on her watch. In the crazy life of this magnificent bastard, war criminal… pirate rebel… their enemy, their ally… his love for his daughter was the one consistent thing, the one aspect of him that pulled him towards light. Ziyal was gone now. But in her memory, he needed someone to throw him a rope before he drowned.

Angrily, Kira punched in the code disabling the force field. She would have to get through to him tonight, even if she had to kill him later. But if killing him was her fate, she preferred that at every step his mind was clear. That he knew he was dying - and what blunt force hit him. 'No, first I finish off Damar, that murdering jerk, then him!', she corrected herself in her mind, as she waited impatiently for the golden buzz to disappear. She stepped over the threshold and came close to where he sat, huddled, in darkness. Only when leaning closely over him, she could tell he was still breathing. Kira went on her knees, next to his immobile form. She shook his shoulder, hard. It earned her no reaction.

"Dukat... " - she said evenly - "This is me... major... Dukat, I need to talk to you about something. I would have come earlier, but I was told you were... " - she cut, then willed herself to continue, without calling him barking mad to his face - " you were not okay. We did not ask your permission. You can be angry about that later. But she deserved to be given a proper goodbye"...

She trailed off. Her words had absolutely no effect. From where she sat, she could see the hard contours of his forehead and the side of his cheek, resting on his knees. She thought she could recognize trails of old tears, showing on his grey, Cardassian ridges. She threw her hands up in frustration. Mortal enemies were not supposed to cry!

"Dukat!" – she demanded in an angry tone – "Talk to me! Make one of your stupid, dastardly speeches! React!" - to punctuate her words, and let some steam off, she punched his arm. Hard. No reaction. She continued - " I don't want to be here, but I came to talk to you, not to stare at you as if you were a stone! I know you are in there, so stop hiding! Don't make it harder! I don't have the rest of my life to sit here and try to talk you out of your madness!"

She shook his shoulder again, hard and insistent. He did not even flinch, though her fingernails were digging into his flesh. All her anger was being met with more of his stillness.

She sat back on the cushions of her heels, fuming with frustration. This day was not easy on her, and the evening was proving to be possibly even more difficult. With Dukat, nothing could be easy anyway. Prophets forbid him to let her get her way with him, even once. Kira's temper flared again. Her fist lifted, as if on its own accord, and she punched his arm. Again and again, hard. It just did not work, nothing worked tonight to assuage her emotions.

Kira covered her eyes with her hands and worked to get her breathing under control. The sensible part of her brain argued that no one was benefiting from her beating Dukat in a pulp, though the cynical side of her begged to differ. He deserved it all, and worse. But weighing heavily on her own conscience was her guilt. This inexplicable, seemingly without limits pain of having failed Ziyal and failed him in the one promise she had always intended to keep. If she wanted to get through to him, to tell him about the funeral, she needed to cool her feelings. 

Kira sighed, lifted her hands away from her face and for the first time that night, she properly focused her eyes on him. Took a good measure of his long body. He was the skinniest she has ever seen him. Even when limping through the galaxy on the Bird of Prey, he never looked this spent. His grey skin looked unhealthy, with blue and green undertones. The skin on his forehead was dry and creased. His armor seemed two sizes too big for him, sticking away in an unnatural manner. It came unclasped on his right shoulder, the hard edge revealing a large tear in the shirt he wore underneath. Kira felt a painful tremble shoot through her spine. A bitter feeling of pity pooled at the top of her gut. Who was this man in front of her, coming undone? Nearly against her better judgement, she lifted her hand, tentatively. It hung in the air for a moment, then moved closer to the nest of his hair.

She expected them to be coarse and coated with dirt, and yet, when she let her fingers stream through them, their softness took her by surprise. Soft and black, like threads of Tholian silk. She has never expected to find any softness to him, with his hard looks and biting words. She breathed out audibly, feeling as if she lost her footing and was falling into nothing. She has never touched him before. Not like this. Granted, she just did a fair amount of shaking and punching, and she was feeling guiltier over it by a minute, but it was not... touch. They never touched. Most of the time, he invaded her personal space and she did all she could to meet his menacing stance with a threatening pose of her own.  
But now, this broken man in front of her... It did not even feel as if it was really him. Dukat. Her life-long enemy. She let her slim, nimble fingers move through his hair, touching his skin, delicately massaging the back of his skull. Her other hand removed some lost strands of hair from his meshavar. Then, it cradled the left side of his face. Gently, she tried to half-lift it, half-move towards herself. Initially, he resisted, but after a long while, drinking in her silent caresses, he let her lift his chin and turn his face. His eyes were open but absent of focus and of color, pale and clouded, as if he was looking through her, not seeing her at all.

"Dukat" - she said softly, as if talking to a child - "It's Nerys. I am here. I am real." – she paused trying to see if she could catch a flicker of recognition in his eyes. They still wore an absent expression, so she tried again – 

"Dukat, I came to tell you about Ziyal's funeral…"

She felt it before she heard it: a guttural moan, coming from deep within him. Before she realized it, she was being flung against the wall with a force that made her wince. She reacted immediately, her split-second responses coming to her aid, but it was a moment too late. He forced her into a lying position in the corner. Her hands were crushed to her sides, his face with pale absent eyes hung just above her face, his fingers digging into her upper arms. But the sight of him was not the most terrifying thing. The sound, tearing out of his chest, from somewhere deep within, a wave of rasping growl rising with moans and ending with the inarticulate, high-pitched wails, sent Kira's mind into a panic. They hung like this for what felt like eternity, though it must have been only a couple of seconds. Her, pushed, immobilized with fear, trembling underneath his iron-like grip, and him, above her, like a predatory bird gone blind and insane, with a guttural cry of pain that she never heard from any living being. She half expected him to start tearing at her face with his teeth. To claw out her eyes.

Instead, he collapsed onto her, his face hidden inside the hollow of her neck, his hands curled up in between his armor and her breasts, both fists balled up this time. She realized he started to sob uncontrollably. She raised her trembling hand to the back of his head to caress his hair. Uncomfortably, she shifted him and herself into a half-sitting position against the corner. He coiled himself into a ball, trembling against her, mumbling some words in between his sobs. She halted the security officers, who hurried into the cell, shocked with the vision before them.

"Help me to take off his armor." – she commanded them from her sitting position – "You just need to unclasp and… yeah, lift it off like that… the back and now, the front…"

With his armor gone, she rested her arm directly across his shoulders and started to massage the stiff muscles of his neck and back. She snapped at the security people – 'Leave us alone! I will be fine' – as they backed away, unsure. Dukat continued to half-sob, half-wail into her neck, pushing into her with a maniacal desire to disappear in the warmth of her embrace. Kira sighed and shifted, trying to get as much comfort as possible underneath the weight of him pressing her into the corner. Her arms moved in wide circles on his back and in his hair, massaging the base of his head, attempting to calm him down.

Her fingertips brushed his ridges. Worked his stiff muscles. His sobs racked her skin. Her heart fluttered with pity.

Yet again, his words, from just a few weeks earlier, floated to the front of her mind. _'We seldom see eye-to-eye Major,'_ \- he told her then, with an unusual glimpse of something akin to honesty in his eyes as he sat, self-assuredly stretched on a sofa, in control of his own life, her life and lives of many people in the Alpha Quadrant - _'But I know you care about my daughter, and for that I am grateful'._

Kira felt the hot, pressing wave of tears fight its way up her throat, and in one final push overflowing her defenses. She clamped hard but for once did not manage to stifle it. They broke through, painful like fire and run down her cheeks.  
"I miss her, Dukat" – she whispered to him, the desperation and anguish intensifying in her with every word - "I can see her face, all the time... a face of a child, a girl… She looked so peaceful today too, as if she was asleep - just sleeping, Dukat... She can't be gone!" - Kira's voice was cracking. She did not know where the sudden flood was coming from, but she felt an urgent need to... talk. So uncharacteristically for her, too. Words were useless in such moments, just a source of further aggravation and pain. On Bajor, between too long, heavy-handed funeral speeches, she was rendered wordless - but here, in this grey hour between day and night, in darkness, with her old enemy in her arms, words were flowing through her mind like a waterfall breaking through the dam. It was too much pain, heart open right here where he could see it. Normally, this would fire up all of Kira's walls and defenses. But tonight... she knew he would not remember any of her words. It mattered not what she revealed to him tonight... He was too far gone in his own mind to be able to take advantage of that open heart... 

"I cannot begin to imagine that I will never see her smile at me again! She will never talk to me, tell me of her dreams, never again!" - Kira took a shuddering breath and felt her body tremble - "I saw so much Bajoran pride in her… she stood for what she believed in... and for people she loved... she was so kind, so loving, she hoped for life I could never have... It is so unfair it was taken from me, and now also taken from her!" – Kira continued in clipped words, short puffs of air leaving her lungs – "Dukat... I really loved her... Protected her... And I failed her! I failed you... I... please… I never meant for this to happen... forgive me..." - Her voice shook and broke – "Forgive me... I am so, so sorry! She helped me... She died because of it!... I promised to protect her, I tried... but in the end, I I was not there!..."

Her voice gave out.The pain was too much. She had no words left, only the tears. She knew he did not comprehend her confession, and would not remember it. He seemed to have gotten quieter, his head resting heavily on her shoulder. His lips were mumbling some disjointed words of endearment in Kardasi... She saw the large, silent tears marking their way down his neck, to his chest, soaking the thorn black shirt. In response, she tightened her arms around him.

This whispered confession of guilt tonight was for her own mental stability. She would pray to her Prophets for forgiveness, tomorrow. She would beg Ziyal's memory for mercy tomorrow, in the light of the breaking dawn. But tonight, it was in telling Dukat, or the broken shadow of the man that used to be Dukat, that she sought the refuge and relief.

They needed to grieve together, like the make-believe family he saw.  
Utterly spent, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.


	2. Enter the Stage of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to tell more, but they all insisted I needed to set the story slowly, to ease you into the rhythm of the station, so here it is - a slow beginning to more.

“That will be all. You've experienced a lot of stress stress lately. What I suggest now is rest, hydration and some sweet TLC” – the kind face of the doctor smiled at Rom, as he entered some digits into the medical Padd, briefly squeezing his tired eyes. 

The ferengi was brought to the infirmary earlier on in the day, after a fainting episode while trying to carry about his duty in his brother’s bar. Quark was more than happy to leave him lying on the floor, muttering something about spineless prisoners of war, but Leeta sounded the alarm. Rom’s fainting spell was a result of exhaustion, something that everyone suffered these days, thought doctor as he restlessly combed his hair with his fingers. Everyone but Leeta, it seemed. Judging by her sweet smile TLC was well underway. Bashir made a mental note to ask them to get a room once it became a bit too explicit for the Infirmary, and walked away to give them some privacy.

The doctor has had his hands full ever since the station was reclaimed, and to be fair, he expected nothing less. The situation would not have been so bad: the majority of his patients were looked after properly, save for one difficult case. Gul Dukat. Condition positively unknown. He was not even a patient, officially. Bashir did not feel properly trained or equipped to deal with momentary instanity. Captain Sisko however entrusted his care into doctor’s hands, with the old “make do” adage of wartimes. So make he did. 

When Dukat was brought to the Infirmary, heartbroken and raving mad, Bashir was reduced to pumping his system with an impressive amounts of anti-anxiety drugs. The amount could have fully sedated, if not killed a lesser man. It barely worked on Dukat, bringing his raging despair down to mildly sedated anguish, in which he kept on repeating promises to his departed daughter ... over, and over, and over again. This was all help extended to the Cardassian ex-dictator. All help available. Bashir knew Dukat was on his list of cases to tend to; no responsible doctor should stuff anyone’s blood with so many substances and then just drop them to fend for themselves. Within reasonable time limits, however, he tried to delay the inevitable visit. He was not looking forward to dealing with this particular case…  


“Worf to Infirmary” – the heavy voice of the Klingon lieutenant cut into doctor’s recollections.

“Bashir here!”

“Doctor, you have the urgent communication coming from the Starfleet Medical headquarters.”

“Put it onscreen in my office, if you please, Mr. Worf” – Bashir sent a warm, well-rehearsed smile in the direction of his patients as he made his way to the desk. The screen that greeted him there was fully taken-up by a pale face with kind, brown eyes.

“Doctor Bashir, I take it” – the person on the view screen greeted him with a warm voice – “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Evreana Nive, the counsellor assigned by the Starfleet Command to Deep Space Nine, as of today. I specialize in PTSD, trauma and loss”

“You are..”

“Betazoid, yes” – the pale face smiled a wide smile.

“And you were assigned here, because?” – his voice hung in an unfinished question.

“Given what is going on in the distant part of the galaxy where you work, doctor, Starfleet became strongly convinced that it is a prerogative you should get the trained psychologist support, as part of your medical team. But the specific reason as to why I am send right now is because of the reports we hear... " - she paused - "of the state of a certain prisoner of war… You see, Gul Dukat cannot be arraigned on Earth, not even as a formality before the end of war, until Starfleet is satisfied that in his mental state he can respond to the accusations weighting on him. And I do not have to tell you, doctor, that they are very committed to bringing him back to full mental health, to make him pay for all the atrocities he perpetuated…”

Bashir sighed heavily. All he wanted was to help all beings of the universe when he took up this post, and to conduct important research on inhabitants of such far away quarters of the galaxy. Live the "wild West" frontier medicine life. All these talks about arraignments, courts and prisoners of war were weighing heavily on his mind, though why he had expected something different he did not know. 

“Certainly, counselor Nive.."

“Oh, call me Evreana, please. We Betazoids see no need for formal addresses or last names!”

“Evreana” – said Bashir, warming up to the kind, hazel eyes, looking at him from the view screen. Her voice was gentle and disposition serene – “We would be very glad to accept all expert help that can be extended. Bajoran Prophets only know, we need it. Badly. Just to get the administrative details out of the way, could you let me know whether your official documents and assignment papers were transferred to the main computer?”

“As far as I know, yes. Forgive this less than typical introduction, doctor” – for a moment, she looked lost in thought – “I know that in cases like this it is customary for the team leader to get in touch directly with your first officer, and for the information to come to you that way. As far as I know however, it was difficult to locate Major Kira this morning, and this transfer is quite urgent. Mr. Worf has kindly agreed to send all information to Captain Sisko and he allowed my communication directly with you.”

“Thank you, Evreana” – Bashir noded, filing up a mental note to go over her papers and experience later; another part of his brain vaguely wondered where Kira disappeared to. To think about it, he did not see her after the ceremony on Bajor concluded yesterday.  
“When can we expect your arrival?”

“I should be there first thing tomorrow morning, doctor” – Evreana smiled the calm smile that Bashir has already started to like – “I will report to duty the moment I set the foot on the station.”

“Good, looking forward to officially welcoming you to Deep Space Nine, Evreana. I will brief you when you arrive. Dukat's case will be your responsibility, and we need to monitor his progress closely. I will discuss all details with Captain Sisko, and have them ready for you tomorrow, and for now, have a safe journey.” – with a sigh, Bashir cut the communication, and turned around to face the Infirmary again. Maybe, if he waited one more day, Gul Dukat will forever cease to be his responsibility; with that thought in mind he looked into the day with a slightly lighter heart. Now, to make lunch arrangements with Garak at the Replimat... He touched his comm badge with a bright smile. 

***

_You knew she was here._  
_You could feel her breath on your face, like a Bajoran sweet spring weather, like the haziness of waking up next to the warm, soft body of the woman you loved more than your own life, and that immediate need to shut your eyes and disappear right back into her smell, into the dream, mingled with the wind of Bajoran hills, purple colors of midday sky, shifting and falling gently into olive greens of gardens, golden light reflected from the cupolas on their meditative chambers, prayer temples, with their sinking faith right into the sweetness of their voices, re-telling their prayers and entrusting their hearts - those delicate feminine voices, sweet dreams hanging in the air, as your face disappeared into her body again and you would touch her voice as it weaved images of the future in your mind, under your closed eyelids, her hands gently caressing the scales on your neck, your ears, the ridges on your face - and you would hear her sighs as she would shift closer to you, the source of warmth, the temple of energy. Bajoran sky, pouring through open windows, smashing your senses, the sound of birds and children, mingled together, waterfalls and trees, cracking as they grow, sounds of hope and belonging, and life itself - and sweet honey-like pleasure growing in all cells of your body, under her touch; knowing this was your home, your place, your planet and your universe - all loving faces you held dear in your memory will look out for you, float in the air, sing lullabies as you put down your tired head, keep you warm and safe in the cradle of their arms, as you slept alone in a bitterly cold, bitterly grey cell of loneliness and despair..._  
_her delicate breath, like a breeze, waking you, warming your face, for the first time since what felt like forever bringing you back to life..._

***

A barely perceptible sound woke her up. She stirred and hissed in pain, trying to stretch her tangled limbs and in the process, coming across a dead weight on her upper body. Her neck was craned in an unnatural position and her back hurt like hell, resting against an extremely hard surface. She cracked open one of her eyes, trying to focus her vision. She grimaced and tried to move, again, only to find out she could not lift her left arm. What in the Prophets name happened to her las night, where was she…

She looked at the nest of silky black hair, tickling her cheek. Then, her eyes wandered down to her right palm, in her laps, currently clasped tightly in two large, grey, Cardassian ones. She heard a peaceful, deep breath, rising and falling near her chest. She felt the reality, rapidly sinking into her, heavy as if her perceptions were made of led. 

Dukat. She spent the night in his cell. Asleep, cradling him in her arms. The security guards did not wake her up, for some unfathomable reason. Here she was, in the bleak, cold morning, squeezed against the wall, with the dead weight of Dukat’s sleeping body pushing into her. Who knew what time it was, her shift could have started already and soon enough, the place will be swarming with her colleagues, astonished faces taking in the scene in front of them... She grimaced, growing extremely uncomfortable, embarrassed and very alert. What the hell was she doing, sitting next to him, with his face resting so peacefully on her shoulder! She felt a bitter distaste raise in her mouth. This was wrong, on so many levels! She must have been out of her mind yesterday, talking to him, staying with him, crying and begging forgiveness... it was the pain of losing Ziyal, or maybe she too was losing her bearings. But no more - she needed to get out of here, as fast as possible! 

She jerked in place and pushed against the wall, trying to shift the heavy if thin frame of the Cardassian gul to the side. Before she could give the full shove, she felt the weight leave her arm. Dukat pulled himself up, hissing low in discomfort, his grey face still full of sleep. He lifted his hands away from her palm, which suddenly felt cold, and rubbed his hooded, heavy eyelids with his knuckles. Then, his blue eyes snapped open. Without a trace of a last night’s absent madness, he slowly and deliberately looked into her eyes, deep into her; with lucidity that was as clear and sharp as she has ever seen in his eyes. Kira froze, suddenly paralyzed half-way through her movement, like a prey caught in the glare of a predator - with her face barely few inches away from his, her chest gulping air. She found herself sinking into him... staring back into his eyes, directly into the heat of his look, unable to look away. She never allowed contact this close before. It was as if the walls she carefully erected on the foundation of her righteous anger did not materialize - and she was lost in confusion, grappling to touch them with her fingers, blinded by mental fog and mesmerized. In absolute silence, the two of them took the longest moment to look deep into each other. Dukat’s eyes were looking steadily into hers. Probing, asking... Unwilling as she was to admit to herself, Kira could see a trace of last night's pain and heartbreak, hidden inside his look… mingled with a deeper, still halfway dreaming light. She was not sure what her eyes were reflecting back to him... 

Suddenly, she flinched. With the corner of her eye, she saw a movement. His hand was raised, lifted towards her face... Before he managed to touch her, to do or say anything, she was on her feet, standing up right, ignoring the protesting pain in all muscles of her body, and walking out of the chamber. On the autopilot of Resistance instinct, she was running away, as far away as possible. 

“Lock the force field behind me and keep him under control!” – above her shoulder, without stopping, she threw to the new set of the Federation guards as she walked away briskly across the hall.

***

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the Star Trek Deep Space Nine territory. Also, my first proper attempt at writing a story. I can do impressions, plots have never been my forte but I am hoping to grow. My writing is in English, though my mother tongue is Polish, so I hope this piece of writing won't be a hot mess :) And if it is, oh well... Do leave comments, even if it is. Pretty please, with a bow on top and everything. We writer wannabes do love'em so!


End file.
